Now hiring (Villains Only)

[Slade]

Deathstroke was a different character entirely, he just had Slade's body. Not in a psychological way nor in a literal sense of course, they were the same person. Their methods however differed significantly. The only time Slade ever hired anyone was in order of testing the Titans. Slade was done testing them that was ancient history, Slade wanted them out of the way and this was the best method. As Deathstroke he could actively involve himself on a level he could not before.He played the role commando, terrorist, and financier.

As Deathstroke paced back and forth his heads up display in his mask identifying the guests there. Well only one electronic eye was real. The other eye just glowed red, nothing special. Most of the people there were who he expected, the ones he freed from prison. There were a few new faces in the crowd as well along with villains he didn't even invite. He didn't mind though seeing as anyone would do right now. There was a loud commotion in the crowd all wondering who this "Deathstroke" person was to begin with. Slade cleared his throat and spoke:

"All right all right recess is over boys and girls. Shut it or I'll sew it shut! I'm sure you are all wondering who I am and why I asked you to come here. For those who were with me the night I trashed the prison, you know my name. I am Deathstroke the Terminator! I have released you all so I can offer you the deal of a lifetime. Now I cannot go further in the details if there is anyone here who does not like the idea of a partnership, refuses reason, and will not work as a team. If such trash decides to remain and betray me, their brains will be all over my new rug!" he said with a gravel like voice. He was loud and commanding, a dictator preaching to his cult.

As he waited for people to leave he signaled some guards to walk them out. Gunshots could be heard from the hallway along with screaming and shouting. After a few minutes there was nothing but dead silence. The crowd couldn't stop Deathstroke and they knew it. This was his place, he had his own men that outnumbered them all a thousand to one. One of the minions came back in carrying a body. The drone placed the corpse at Deathstroke's feet and as Slade sat he rested his feet on the stiff. The chilling stare of the angry red eyes on his mask was now all the light in the room as the men turned out the lights. Needless to say the majority of the guests were petrified. A large television screen was lowered from the ceiling and flickered a bit before going to a live feed from the hallway camera.

"As you can see, there are no survivors here. I find that experience is the best way of learning important lessons. Take it all in, mutilated all of them. Hung like pigs at a deli. Remember, this could be you should you reveal my secrets. When you leave you may tell yourself that there is no way that I'll be able to find you. Don't bet on it, I found you all and invited you here myself and I can find you no matter where you go. No matter what ends of the earth you go to I will not rest until I have enough traitors skulls to build myself a throne fit for a king. The skinning of your bodies will be done as you still breathe. Is any of this getting through to you guys?"

Everyone stammered and yelled swearing an oath of secrecy. Deathsroke's vision supported nightvision and could sense temperature changes. he could see the fear in their eyes which was perfect. Thermal sensors indicated tha several people had actually messed themselves during the display. Deathstroke could now smell vomit among the crowd. Everything was perfect. Fear would be their teacher and Deathstroke would be Fear.

As the lights went back on Deathstroke moved in closer. "Now I am a man of mercy and generosity when trust is earned. Everyone gets a fair deal, the training I can provide you outshines that of Brother Bludd's, and unlike the Brotherhood I will actually pay you to do what you all normally do and I will support you as long as I get my fair share. Yes I will pay you to kill, rob, destroy, and cheat provided you meet my quota. Even better I will award six million dollars for anyone or group of felons who will literally bring me the head of any teenage hero they can kill. Twenty billion dollars will be the reward for the death of the Teen Titans themselves. A pretty sweet deal wouldn't you say? You can all continue to do what you do best and be paid handsomely. All I ask is for obedience and loyalty."

He pulled out a gun and loaded it. He walked back and forth building tension with each loud step he took. He then turned their backs to them and put the gun over his shoulder and fired hitting someone right in the skull. "Those who wish to refrain from aiding me will not wake up the next morning. Now that all the fun is over, please go to the left door down the hall and sign a contract. I look forward to being everyone's...best friend!"

[William Taft]

Standing near the back of the crowd, William Taft folded his arms and frowned at the shadowy figure of Deathstroke. There was going to be a catch, he just knew there was. Men like Deathstroke—actually, anyone who breaks strangers out of jail—didn’t just do favors like that without expecting something back. The only question in William’s mind right now was how bad would it be. Not that he had many scruples left, honestly. He just didn’t much want to get trapped into anything that would tie him down or force him to fight the Titans again. That hadn’t gone well.

The rough, threatening speech barely flickered one of his eyelashes, though. To be expected. His eyes followed those that chose to leave, wondering if they would be killed in front of the group as examples or out of sight. The fact that Deathstroke managed both surprised him slightly—no one saw, but no one thought they had lived much past the door, either.

Looked like it didn’t matter how bad the catch was. William’s jaw tightened. In for a penny, in for a pound, he thought, wishing the display would get over quicker so he could hear what he was caught up in. Though not used to slaughter on that scale, it helped that he didn’t know any of them and their lives meant nothing to him. It was so easy to learn how to keep tragedy distant when it wasn’t personal to begin with.

Nor was it personal in any way, shape, or form. Any of it. And that was why William didn’t find it difficult or frightening to listen to Deathstroke speak. As long as he didn’t try to walk out, he would be safe from repercussions (so far), and all the threats were very impersonal, distant. Deathstroke would obviously feel absolutely nothing about killing any of them with his bare hands, and that emotional distance beget emotional distance for William.

He raised his voice in agreement to keep quiet. Sure, why not. Better than dying. He did wrinkle his nose and edge a bit to the side of the crowd, hoping to lessen the stink of a terrified mob. He watched someone nearby vomit just because he’d smelled vomit and rolled his eyes. Still, this whole deal didn’t sound so bad once the threats stopped. The fact that there wasn’t much of a deadline on how long they’d be stuck doing this bothered him a little, but at least it was a personal incentive to go after the Titans, rather than a death threat. William would leave that to the more enterprising psychopaths in the room. And more training could only be a good thing.

Watching those near the dead man as he fell made William glad he was in the back. Oh good, they got to leave now? Speech time over? Raising an eyebrow at Deathstroke’s last words, he was one of the first to start walking, not as spellbound by shock as many of the others. Of all the cities in the world, I had to steal in this one, he thought ruefully, shaking his head as he headed off to sign the contract.

[Angel]

Honestly, this was a ridiculous amount of stuff that she was being forced to take in at once. What did they think she was, a rocket scientist? She was like totally an elite mook, not someone who should be confronted with a bunch of information that didn’t make sense and then be forced to rearrange it and put it together like a puzzle in order to get a statement. She was no Sherlock, totally a Watson, and she didn’t even have her direction at this moment. Ugh.

‘Course, to top it all off, she was stuck inside. Which meant she was useless. Which meant that she really wanted to find Kyd at this moment.

Unfortunately, this ‘Deathstroke’ person (and seriously? What was up with that name?) seemed determined to put to a halt any (probably pretty terrible) plans that she had half-formed, what with the way they were all being herded like cattle. Ugh. The girl totally tried to catch a glimpse of her BFFL while being jostled and jolted and just plain trampled on by the herd of idiotic sheep that surrounded her, but nope, no sight. Though she definitely couldn’t see the whole group, on account of being a kid teen and there being stupidly tall people there, and there was always the fact that Kyd could’ve teleported away. Of course, she hoped that he hadn’t, considering she wanted to get out of dodge, as well, but if they were all being brought to like the BIG ROOM OF DOOM (or whatever cliché it was bound to be), at least one of them was out there to wreck havoc on the world.

Good times, good times.

But seriously, where could a girl get some food around here? God, a cookie sounded awesome… ‘Cause seriously, she had been fighting, and failing horribly at it, then frozen (Stupid Titans!), and now she’s waking up with a bunch of criminals/villains, a lot of which look more pathetic than her (which is saying something) and there’s no freaking food.

Of course, her appetite died a quick, yet painful death (being boiled alive in lava would probably be an accurate description… Stupid Star Wars, ruining her life) when she managed to contort her body in such a way that she was able to catch a glimpse of the person that had brought them here, this ‘Deathstroke’ (it was a move that forced her to twist her neck almost 180 degrees, contort her torso in something that would probably look more familiar on that gymnastic ‘Boy Wonder’, and then squint like she was blind).

…Yeah, no dinner dates with him, anytime soon.

But she listened to him speak, and though she was trying really hard to listen to his ‘intimidating speech’ (really, going to H.I.V.E. and then the Brotherhood had kind of made her immune to ‘big bad speeches of evil’, as you’d be surprised at how many there were. Seemed everyone liked to monologue.), one thing distracted her in the middle of his speech.

Deathstroke. The Terminator.

She was so thankful that the people were still whispering, still talking amongst themselves even as he ranted in a ‘most evil fashion’, as she clapped a hand over her own mouth, pushing backwards through the people (stepping on a few toes to boot, but meh, whatever) as she let out a few snorts, unable to help it. ’I’ll be back.’ It was just too perfect! He had seriously just said that! LOL!

For people that didn’t get the reference, as Angel stood near the back, wings fluttering slightly and stirring up a small breeze as she tried to contain herself, he was probably pretty terrifying, and she was pretty certain that at minimum, she could’ve appreciated the nice work and effects put into such a speech, as it was pretty darn good. But the second he had said that… Well, she had lost it. No more fear for her.

…Of course, the universe had to go and prove her wrong, cause it got its kicks out of stuff like that. He asked if people wanted to leave, something she managed to catch through trying not to make a spectacle of herself (she knew that Deathstroke couldn’t see, but some of the people by her were giving her strange looks), and even if she hadn’t been practically stuffing her fist in her mouth in a twisted form of a knuckle sandwich in an attempt to be quiet, she wasn’t stupid. You never went for stuff like that, especially if the dude’s name freaking started with Death.

But they were sheep, and sheep were idiots, and they inevitably tried that path. The gunshots made her wince, and her humor quickly evaporated. This dude meant business. And considering that he was willing to kill people like that, so simply, so easily, it meant he was totally a supervillain. Just who she would’ve chosen not to get involved with.

There was a silence flickering through the crowd, like fireflies mating (which was a really weird comparison, but if weren’t broke, don’t fix it!), but it was morbid. Like, gravestone morbid and omigod this is a horror movie morbid.

For one, stunningly out of character moment, Angel was delighted that she wasn’t flying. She’d have been able to see what was going on up there if she was.

The lights dimmed, and she listened, not really finding anything to laugh at now that it was real, and people were dead (even though he was comparing him to pigs, something which would normally at least make her snort), and she could be next. But share his secrets? What secrets? Like she’d even get high enough in his ranking system/pecking order/whatever to learn things that were so private!

…But... It didn’t seem like she’d be able to get out of this one. It’d be just like the Brotherhood of Evil, joining with reluctance expect that it was a mass murderer, a really freaky mass murderer who clearly didn’t watch any movies, that convinced her to join, versus her best friend. Joy.

Hopefully, she could get out before the Teen Titans smashed this guy and all of his followers, this time. Or were they even in San Francisco? Huh… Honestly, joining the goody-goodies seemed better than this. Maybe Jinx’d put a good word in for her?

But for now, Angel nodded, lips moving in the obligatory fashion and spouting meaningless platitudes as her nose slightly wrinkled up from the stink, glowing yellow eyes narrowing with distaste. Gross! That smelled like… Well, like a bathroom! Surely people weren’t that scared?

Then again, she did have a movie geek’s knowledge to distract her. Always that.

Of course, then he had to go and spout a bunch of absolute crap. Mercy? Seriously? And though it was nice to hear that she’d get paid for doing what she normally did, the villain, the simple, non-super villain, couldn’t help but let a shiver go down her spine at the thought of doing some of the things on his list. Kill? No, no, never. She rather be a Teen Titan. But still, it answered the question of where she was. Still in good old SF, it appeared.

Had she been able to see up there, been able to see the kind of scary villain (heck, who was she fooling, he was pretty darn creepy) with the ridiculous name, it likely wouldn’t have scared startled her as much as it had, but considering that she couldn’t, the shot and the subsequent dropping of one of the people up front made her jump slightly, wings fluttering as she blinked her yellow eyes furiously, just trying to… get it.

Angel totally wasn’t used to being in sitches like this. She just wasn’t.

And with that parting comment, something that sounded so kindergarten-esque coming out of such a deranged man’s mouth, Angel did what she was told, becoming another mindless sheep for a moment, as her wings quivered. She was sure that she was pale, her mouth set in a hard line as she exited the room, but she wasn’t scared.

No, she had to figure out a way to get out of this sick man’s employ, even if she technically wasn’t in it yet. There was not any time to be scared.

…Not that it didn’t stop her from curling up in a ball inside, shaking and feeling as if she had been hit with killing intent from Naruto. This was bad.

But as she fell into step (purely by accident, of course, it wasn't as though the mask had intrigued her or anything) with a masked man/teen/person older than her that didn't seem frightened (though there was the mask, he could be hiding it), Angel forgot her fear for a moment, blinking luminescent yellow eyes up at him curiously.

"Is that an Erik shout-out?" she asked curiously, her mouth popping open and words rolling out before they had even processed through her mind. "Like, you know, are you called 'The Voice' for your code-name? Cause that'd be wicked."

Snerk, and wasn't that the cute little pun she got in there.

[William Taft]

William glanced over at hearing a voice, not having expected to hear someone so ... chipper, was probably the best word, in this kind of atmosphere. It was a bit jarring, to be honest. Nor were her questions any more in sync with what was going on around them. Still, it helped loosen the gloom slightly, and he raised his eyebrows at her even though she couldn’t see it.

Meeting her eyes, he pushed a sensation into her mind, so that even as she looked at him—his mouth obviously not moving—she heard a whisper on her other side, close enough to touch if anything was actually there. “It’s Phantom, actually.” Though amused with himself, his face remained straight. No good letting her think he had a sense of humor or something. “Is that still ‘wicked’?” he asked, aloud this time. “Because that’d be appropriate, considering.” Jerking his head backward, he indicated the room they’d just left, and Deathstroke.

[Angel]

Patiently, well, not patiently, like “I’m not talking but please hurry up and answer my questions” waiting type stuff, Angel waited (repetitive word, note to self: get a thesaurus) for an answer. Cause, seriously, she was curious! And reasonably so! Erik, The Voice, all that jazz… Honestly, it would be so epically awesome if someone actually based their villain persona off of him. She totally would’ve, had she had the ability to do so, but the fact that she was both female and looked like something that had ‘fallen from heaven’ (that pick-up line was so overused) kind of put a damper on that.

The voice practically in her ear made her jump slightly, luminescent eyes going wide as her wings fluttered slightly, glancing over in the direction of something that wasn’t there. Wait, no, seriously? Was he like a ventriloquist? A glance back showed her that his lips weren’t moving, which… made her unsure. It could be a power thing, it could be a talent thing, but either way, it was pretty darn cool, she had to admit.

And it reminded her of that one movie! The one with the thing and the person who did that thing… Yes, that one! How cool!

“Totally!” she told him, the one bright voice in the somber crowd of fear and moroseness (Mor-ose. A word that she’d never actually gotten to use before, let alone say. Same with somber. Huh.). “Still an Erik thing, and a sweet power to match! Lucky!” Yep, pretty darn sweet. Though she wouldn’t give her wings up for the world except for maybe Kyd, it was still a power she was kind of jealous of. Especially considering that he could totally make an awesome Erik should he choose to perform.

Angel rolled her eyes, though (not that it was apparent, stupid ‘no-having-pupils’ thing), at the mention of the supervillain back there. “Yup, no mourning Mr. ‘I’ll be back’,” she replied, butchering and blending references to several mediums across her tone, not even realizing she was doing it. “Glad to be out of there, though, totally smelled like bathroom.”

Urgh, yes. Completely. Not as bad as a port-o-potty, though. Close, but no cigar, alas.

[William Taft]

Yeah, William really couldn’t tire of making people jump like that. She actually seemed the type who would fall for it multiple times, even without him having to make himself momentarily disappear just to add to the shock factor. “Luck. Not something that applies to me often.” He took a better look at her, not surprised at all that she’d ended up in the villain bin. She was definitely alien-looking enough to be an outcast, and outcasts had a tendency to turn to bad things. “Not quite as impressive as flight, though,” William added, nodding to her wings.

He snorted, recalling the reactions of those that were filtering into the hallway behind him. “I don’t guess a lot of the guys in there are used to mass murder in the next room and threats of being skinned alive.” The threat itself wasn’t really very uncommon. It was looking at the man saying it and knowing without a doubt that he was capable and wouldn’t hesitate to actually do it that was rare. “If he wanted grunts, though, finding the people who piss themselves is a great way to pick cannon fodder.”

Ah, a door to the left. William paused a moment, glancing around to make sure this was the right one, then headed in to see about that contract. Perhaps they could leave, even if only briefly, after that request was completed. He could really use some fresh air. And a new bike.

[Angel]

She shrugged lightly at the comment. “Meh, everyone gets their moments, where they actually get yes for an answer.” ’You’ve gotta ask yourself one question: Do I feel lucky?’ Snerk, movie quotes were always awesome to reference. Especially when someone got one. That was how she met Kyd Wykkyd, at least in the BFFL style of meeting your friends: she quoted a paraphrase, he understood, and BOOM, instant friendship, just add water. Fun times!

Angel’s mouth formed into a twist of a smile, slightly ironic but still with humor and happiness, nonetheless. “I wouldn’t trade flying for the world,” she told him, paraphrasing an earlier thought. “But I’m pretty darn useless indoors.” Which stunk. Like, ridiculously much. Not that she was an indoors person to begin with, unless she was in the kitchen. Then she made masterpieces~.

A slight pause in her run of thoughts (a rare thing indeed), though the introduction to ‘Dirty Harry’ still played in the back of her mind like montage music, reminded her that she hadn’t given her name to ‘Phantom’, so the girl was quick to correct that. “I’m Angel, by the way,” she spoke up, and had she had possession of eyebrows, or eyes that twinkled, she would’ve waggled the former and done the latter. As it was, she just grinned. “Fun with irony, huh?”

Cause like, seriously, she was not a heaven floaty halo harp angel. Not the opposite of an angel, of course, but she didn’t fit the usual criteria.

The comment made her face twist into something sort of disgusted, sort of sad, and yet still with the underlying cheerfulness at the same time (her moods were complex. Totally.). “’M not really used to those,” she admitted, though it was mostly because she stayed below the radar. “But hearing too many supervillain monologues gets old after awhile.” Seriously. Those villains that considered themselves ‘super’ did it far too often for her liking, and considering she was around them too much, she got an earful.

Thank goodness for the fact that Kyd didn’t speak, or she would’ve snapped by now.

The disgust and sadness slipped away as easily as it came, like water through a sieve (a classic simile, of course) as she snickered lightly at the comment. “Ah, the redshirts,” Angel replied, smile on her face. “Totally determined to be at least a mauve shirt, here.” Higher would be better, but not too high.

She followed Phantom, trusting that he knew where he was going, and peering past him into the room to see someone that resembled a complete and utter mook, likely to be easily killed the instant that they were attacked, with a pile of papers, and a nice container-thing of pens. “So… fun contract time, I guess?”

Joy.

[Slade]

His hand clenched Angel's shoulder, his red eyes peered into her soul as he towered over her. He had been essentially invisible to the crowd. He looked at the boy she was with. "Interesting generation" he said to himself. He squeezed her shoulder harder and then let go. He moved in between them and among the other criminals. He clapped his hands together once. He lowered himself to the level of all the employees. The average head villain would keep a distance away from them, especially in front of people he was threatening. Deathstroke was different. No one could touch him here and he knew it. What was even more important was that they knew it.

Another reason to walk among the others was to show a sense of camaraderie, something that he did not fake. Slade was at some point in his life a Major in the Army, he knew how to lead and how to inspire. He decided to make these two children a projectof his. He knew the basic story behind the winged one. Hacking the database for the H.I.V.E academy was simple. This "Phantom" was a little more of a mystery. The main reason he decided to make them a part of his focus was that they had little fear of him. This was bound to happen for some. Some people were stupid, others emotionless, and while others simply knew the score and knew what to do to get by and get by with the prize. He had hoped that these two were the latter.

"Well, Angel I would consider my demonstration more as a recruitment campaign than the stale villain of the month speech. But to each his own. "

He pulled something out of a pouch on his belt, two cards. He handed them to the two. He pointed to a steel door that looked much more modern and much more high tech than the dingy room s they had been it. The door had a slot where one would swipe a card key. The message was clear, they were invited.

"I assure you, you can be more than just "red shirts". Behind that door is something no one else besides myself has seen. Not even my men have had the privilege. I humbly invite you both to partake in an opportunity that the others will have to literally kill each other to earn it. You will be trained personally by yours truly in whatever branch or branches of crime you desire. If you do not want to kill, fine I will teach you how to spy and steal. If you want to learn how to make a chronoton detonator, I'm your man. If you want to kill and run things like me I will teach you how to manage your own personal sect of my army. Provided that you can muster up the talent and knowledge."

Deathstroke begun his recruitment of a personal elite of the young. A Deathstroke youth, a perfect analogy. Sure it reflected the term of the third reich and its leader but this was a little more important. If you cannot fear them, than try to treat them. After all, you catch more flies with honey.

"I see you two have talents and you hold little fear in your hearts. Though it is an act of foolishness in all likelihood." He put bloodied swords to both of their necks. "I could kill you both and defile your corpses in ways more vulgar than the mind can comprehend. Arkham has nothing that compares to what I have done and what I will do." he put away the guns. And held both of them closely. he held them like they were his own. They were his own he corrected himself. However this was different, he held them like a father would his children. A complete bipolar turn from the threat just seconds before.

"Your fate is your own. You can be pawns or bishops. Take the contract of a red shirt, or take the job of yellow or blue."

[William Taft]

William actually did smirk when she provided her codename. “Assume I made a stupid joke,” he quipped. A name like that amongst criminals was entertaining at best, unfortunate at worst, but since she’d given it to herself, he had no sympathy.

He didn’t admit that it wasn’t exactly something he was used to, either. But expose yourself to enough fire, and a worse burn doesn’t make you scream like others would. At least from the display in there, Deathstroke might be brutal, but he wasn’t complicated. Men like that, it didn’t take a lot to keep satisfied.

What did shock him, just a little, was the sudden appearance of the topic of their conversation, right next to Angel. William paused, his eyes widening at seeing someone else pop out of nowhere, a strange sensation for the shadow who was usually hiding out of sight. As their new boss wandered away from the two of them, William remained still, standing stiffly, watching his every move. Not complicated, sure, but definitely unstable. If he’d been listening without them knowing, then who knew what he might have taken offense at? Men like him who took offense, killed.

A recruitment campaign? That was being generous in William’s opinion, but he also hadn’t seen it as just another monologue. The effects on the crowd had been too potent. He took the offered card without hesitation, not willing to take Deathstroke’s ‘kindness’ or ‘interest’ or whatever it was at surface value. If they weren’t interested in whatever he wanted, they wouldn’t get a pat on the head and left to their own devices. He watched Deathstroke, listening carefully, his mind racing. This was exactly what he hadn’t wanted to happen. But at least they weren’t being thrown into a specific slot. He could still pick his own and be trained.

Though he held himself perfectly still when the blade touched his skin, William had been tense the entire time Deathstroke had been near, so there wasn’t much of a change. What caused a bigger reaction for him, instead, was the ‘fatherly’ hug. He jerked slightly, but managed to restrain himself from completely trying to pull away. Don’t do stupid things, he reminded himself, and waited impatiently for the contact to end, then took an extra step away.

“Don’t mistake my lack of fear for foolishness,” he said, raising his chin and taking the chance to examine those eyes, wondering if they were both electronic or both organic. Electronics would be unfortunate—his powers didn’t work on machines. “Just because I’m not afraid of feral dogs doesn’t mean I let them bite me.” Clenching his hand around the card Deathstroke had given him, he bared his teeth in an imitation of a smile. “I’m in, boss.”

[Angel]

“More glad you didn’t,” she replied easily, smiling at his response. “There’s only so much variety you get.” Cause, seriously, she didn’t need to hear some of the repetitive ones, over and over. Honestly, by now, Phantom’s comment was the most amusing. People just didn’t have much use of imagination, though she did adore it when someone quoted a movie at her when learning her name. They were usually awesome.

Still, at least she had managed to get a reaction thing out of the stoic other! A smirk! Geeze, too much like Kyd… Though not necessarily in a good way, but he still seemed pretty awesome-

Her thoughts on how cool the other was (not as if it was a statement, but like weighing pros and cons on her mental weight scale, like in the Egyptian afterlife and all that jazz) were interrupted by someone popping out of nowhere, clasping a strong hand on her shoulder. Jerking her head in their direction in absolute surprise (because, honestly, she was pretty good at telling when people were there, on account of Kyd’s forever silent movement), her luminescent eyes widened at the sight. It was Deathstroke! And he was holding onto her shoulder, and please, oh please let him not have heard what she had said…

It was all she could do to not let out a sigh of relief, honestly, when he released her shoulder with a squeeze, but the girl tensed slightly at his next words. “No, it was good!” she told him, words genuine if fearful. “I’ve just heard a lot of speeches, so it’s harder for me to appreciate new ones. That’s all! It was perfectly paced, good emphasis, the tone conveyed the message really well…” And oh god, she sounded like she was in school all over again. And sadly, that was the stuff that she learned. So with a (probably) audible snap, she closed her mouth, shifting away her yellow eyes as she hoped she wasn’t going to be murdered on the spot.

But it wasn’t as though she could’ve not said anything! After all, there was that implicit “dude I can’t believe you thought it was boring” bombshell threat lurking below the surface, and she had to ditch that. Or at least make it forget about her.

Accepting the card tentatively, glancing down at it with surprise before she looked up, Angel listened attentively to Deathstroke’s speech, biting her lip. Even if there was an option to back out of this, even if she could give it back and become a redshirt (and why her? Why did he choose her?), it would be a bad decision. After all, redshirts were the common mooks, the ones that were always killed at a moment’s notice, and the girl had seen enough movies to know that she wouldn’t survive long at all. Especially considering that she had been below the radar to begin with, and wouldn’t have any impact on any of the ‘good guys’, except maybe Jinx.

…Yes, just think of it like a movie. Then she could survive.

So what would she learn, then? What would be the most advantageous, the Chekovs’ skill that would shop up later and prove to save her life? Learning how to fight hand-to-hand. At the moment, if she was caught on the ground with no one to defend her, with no weapons, she’d die, plain and simple. So when it came time to state what she wished to learn, Angel could say it confidently. Good.

Oh, was that why he wanted them? The lack of fear? That seemed to be a simple mistake that many movie villains made, but in this case, the teen was pretty sure that Deathstroke had made the wise choice. As far as she knew, neither of them wanted to usurp him, just wanted out, so the old adage “keep your friends close, and your enemies closer” kind of worked for this situation.

But her thoughts were cut off completely as a blade was pressed to her neck, one with blood, someone else’s blood that was likely gone, nothing left of them, and she tensed, not even breathing as he went on. She’d rather turn blue than exhale, at this point. It didn’t seem that she would have to change colors, though the girl listened attentively to his words. Yes, that was about what she figured. But as long as he wasn’t there, hanging over them, she could not be afraid, because if she lived too much of her life in fear, what kind of life would that be?

For now, though, he was here and his words made sense, so yes, she was frightened. Reasonably so.

Of course, then the guy had to go and hug them, something which creeped her out so much, and reminded her of the last Harry Potter movie. Channeling Voldemort, much? Creepy hug and all? Thankfully, he didn’t hold on for too long, and the instant that he let go, and she was free, a few steps were taken to insure that she wouldn’t get hugged again. The only time that she was ever hugged was when she tackled one of her friends in a glomp-hug when she hadn’t seen them for a bit, of which she had few: Kyd Wykkyd, Jinx once upon a time, and See-More, maybe. Angel didn’t want to be hugged by a creepy dude.

However, his comment on the shirts made her crack a small, appreciate smile. So he couldn’t be all bad, if he knew to make that statement. Before she could respond, however, Phantom spoke up, and she cast him a side-long glance, blinking at him, and filed that comparison away. That was actually a pretty darn good one. She’d have to use it again.

…And then it was her turn. “Ditto, chief,” she told him, trying to keep the small smile on her face as she looked at the creepy man. “Red’s not my color.”

[Slade]

"I am glad to hear it. Your first day of training will begin tomorrow at seventeen 0' clock . Military time of course. Do not be late. Until then when it is your turn to sign the contract show my associate your cards and he will hand you the proper contracts. Now, take the day off when you're done signing, gather your thoughts, train, and raise some hell if you get the chance. I can tell that we are all going to have an...interesting time getting to know one another. If you need lodging than feel free to stay here. I'll clean up some nice rooms for you both." he said with a sinister tone in his gravel voice. The bulbs for the eyes on the mask glowed in their faces. It was like staring death in the eyes, no expression other than the impending end.

He headed back to his own room. It was not grand by any means, in fact many of the rooms for the guests were bigger and were actually clean. This was done intentionally of course to show both an illusion of humility as a leader and to show that he was perfectly happy living in a stained, messy place where who knows what happened in there. He pressed a panel on the wall and a keyboard, a microphone, and a screen popped open. As he logged on he opened up access to two robot drones. The artificial intelligence of the two were modeled after Slade's own brain patterns and therefore tended to act within the same parameters. He could also take active control of any of them any time wanted. Through this he could be everywhere at once.

He activated a Deathstroke doppelganger and had him walk in through the opposite side of the building and enter to where all the recruits were. The illusion of it was that Deathstroke could move anywhere at any speed he wanted. He wanted them all to think that he could teleport or he was part of an organization comprised entirely of people dressed as Deathstroke. He wasn't sure which possibility would be more terrifying to people. The Deathstroke robot moved exactly as the original did and spoke in the same voice and patterns. He was virtually perfect. He looked over the two children as well as the other recruits. Part of what made Deathstroke so effective was that he could be closer to his subjects than Slade ever could yet retaining the same distance as well.

Speaking of Slade, that was the second drone he activated. The Slade bot was of course in Slade's head quarters far far away from here. He needed to maintain the illusion that he was they were separate entities. Threats attacking the Titans on two different fronts in completely different ways. The real Slade started thinking up a plan for the fake Slade to attempt. It needed to be credible, something predictable as well. Well, predictable for the Titan's standards of Slade which was not very predictable at all. But it needed to fit the common modus operandi. He decided to have his Slade minions try to rob a high tech company. He chose Jump City's local Wayne Tech facility. He knew that there was an experimental computer chip within the works there.

Now, Slade did not need the chip. He could make his own that was just as good but the heist was plausible enough and would have Robin believe that he was planning something big. he assumed direct control of the Slade robot and instructed it to contact Robin. This was a common ploy by Slade, he would hack into the Titans communicator to drop a message that would taunt and challenge the boy wonder to stop him in time. He spoke into the microphone. It was a good thing that his quarters were sound proof.

"Hello Robin..."

[William Taft]

William couldn’t help but glance at Angel as she started babbling, nor could he resist rolling his eyes. Deathstroke might be frightening, but she was a little too jumpy. Again, the thought that she would be easy to mess with occurred to him, and it seemed he was right.

He made note of the time, nodding to show his understanding as Deathstroke gave them instructions. Good to know they’d have some time to themselves. He did want to get that new bike, and he didn’t have his pistol anymore, either, so could probably use a new one of those. Come to think of it, he had quite a few errands to run, and they’d be best done during the daytime, when alarms weren’t set, and there were people to fool instead of cameras.

No one looked at the footage of security cameras until they realized something was missing, and even then, they usually suspected it happened at night.

The last thing Deathstroke said, though, made William feel suspicious. He said “feel free”, but his voice was so emotionless, it was hard to get any kind of read on him. Did that mean “do whatever you want except when it didn’t coincide with what I want” or “I really don’t care what you do when you’re not obligated to do something for me”? Both were equally likely from what he could tell of Deathstroke so far, and after some extra thought, William decided it was probably best to stick close to base when he wasn’t doing anything. He was rather vulnerable for a bad guy, after all.

“Come on, Angel,” he muttered to her as Deathstroke left, turning back toward where the contracts were being signed. As he started walking, William glanced at her, and added, “Don’t girls usually have a better sense of fashion than to wear a color that doesn’t look good on them?” With that, he looked pointedly at the blatantly red section of her costume, his mouth twisted wryly.

When Deathstroke reappeared, William looked over with a detached sense of concern. On the one sense, he posed no immediate threat, as it seemed he wanted William and Angel around for his plans. On the other, unless it was just a scare tactic, he couldn’t see the point, and William preferred to stay away from things that didn’t make sense to him. They usually bit.

“I’ve got some errands to run,” he told the closest thing to a ‘friend’ he had in this place so far, flashing his card to the guy handing out contracts and began skimming over it. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” Despite signing on to work as part of a team, and being rather vulnerable against heroes on his own, William couldn’t yet shake his habit of working alone. Inviting her to come along didn’t even occur to him.

[Angel]

Seventeen o’clock. Angel wasn’t sure what to think about the fact that she actually had to take a moment to realize that it was 5 that he was talking about (she really didn’t get the whole military time thing, unless you were actually in the stupid military), but she shook her head at the offer of rooms. She’d just go back and find her and Kyd’s apartment. Considering that they had paid it off for an entire year, just to be on the safe side (you never knew with incarceration), she was pretty sure that it’d be good, but…

Besides, she wanted to see if Kyd would make his way there.

Nodding as her new-found friend (not best friend, not by far, but he had been awesome enough to be considered a friend at this point) spoke to her, she followed, barely able to resist casting a glance at Deathstroke, but she did. Probably best, cause the sooner that he was away, the better.

At his statement, had she had eyebrows, she would’ve lifted them, but as it was, she simply rolled her eyes, an action which was very hard to tell she had done so, unless one was super observant. “Do you know how hard it is to get shirts that I can get on over my wings?” she asked rhetorically, a wry smile on her face. “Had to stop caring about that a long time ago.” After a moment’s pause, Angel amended her words. “Besides, it’s red-orange, not just red. There’s a difference.”

Though she had read in a study somewhere that men had a smaller color spectrum that they saw than women. Not something she was sure she was gonna believe, however.

The girl wouldn’t have noticed anything, probably, at least for another few minutes, until she followed Phantom’s gaze (well… what she thought was his gaze, considering his mask and all) and spotted Deathstroke, all back in his creepy glory. What was he doing here again? Hadn’t he been leaving?

…Then again, he could be eavesdropping on other conversations and seeing if there were other people so blatantly unafraid. Which would make sense.

Mimicking her friend’s action and receiving the contract, but not reading it yet because she couldn’t read and talk at the same time, Angel blinked in surprise at the statement, before smiling. “Sounds good,” she replied, glancing down at the contract and groaning on the inside at how much there was (okay, okay, there wasn’t that much, but it wasn’t as if she were reading a book). “I’ve gotta go make sure my apartment’s still safe, anyway, and I’m gonna try and locate my friend…”